


My Present Does Not Need Our Past

by iantosgal



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Avengers as minor characters, Clint obsession, Clint!Centric, Fury is a good friend, Fury is not evil, I blame Renner, I don't even know how this happened, M/M, Non graphic metions of past rape/non-con, Own Characters - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, betrayel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iantosgal/pseuds/iantosgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five months after the Battle of New York, a shit tone of psych evals that said Loki was gone from his head and eighteen missions done and dusted, and still some people looked at Clint Barton like he might put an arrow through their eye socket any second. Now his past is merging with his present. His brother wants to talk, his team needs a leader and Clint just wants to get the job done, go home and put Barney in his rear view mirror and firmly back in his past where he belongs. But first, they have to find one Henry Douglas and close down his trafficking organisation before his alien weaponry and his terrifying new drug make it out into the general population.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Present Does Not Need Our Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sian1359](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/gifts).



> Forgive me. I suck at titles. Also, I have no idea how this got so long but I really hope Sian1359 and everyone else who reads enjoys this story.

Clint Barton marched through the halls of the SHIELD New York headquarters and ignored the stares. Five months after the Battle of New York, a shit tone of psych evals that said Loki was gone from his head and eighteen missions done and dusted, and still some people looked at him like he might put an arrow through their eye socket any second. 

 

It was enough to give a man a fucking complex. 

 

Luckily for him, Nick Fury wasn't one of those people. He read through Clint's psych evals and saw them for what they were. Sure, there was PTSD and survivors guilt but there'd been plenty of that shit before and the only bit Fury really cared about was that Loki was gone from his mind and Hawkeye was good to go. So he'd sent Clint on missions and been rewarded with eighteen successful outcomes. As they said; the numbers don't lie. 

 

So Clint ignored the stares and carried on to his destination. He knocked once on the door, a single sharp rap and waited for the command to enter. He opened the door and took in the scene before him. 

 

Nick Fury was sat behind his desk signing paperwork with Phil Coulson stood at his right hand side. Fury didn't look up when Clint entered but Phil did. He caught Clint's eye and smiled softly with his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly. Clint smiled in return and drank in the sight of Phil Coulson standing of his volition. Five months ago they thought Phil was dead. Four months ago they thought Phil would never walk again. And yet, there he stood looking like he did before all Loki's shit and Clint felt pride swell within him. _That's my man_ he thought. 

 

Clint stood to attention silently whilst he waited for Fury to finish with the forms and didn't outwardly react to Phil's presence, even though he was still in that phase where sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night and stared at Phil for hours, just to remind himself he was still there.

 

Contrary to popular belief, Clint was a model soldier. He obeyed orders, he didn't speak out of turn and he was polite and respectful to those who gave him the same courtesy. The one time his gut told him his orders were wrong and he wilfully ignored them, it had worked out pretty well for everyone and given them Natasha, but it seemed to have given him a bit of a reputation as being unruly; and there _had_ been the time he'd broken his old handler's nose but, lets face it, the guy deserved everything he got and then some. Clint was a good soldier but he wasn't a robot and the guy had been drunk on power, treating the agents under him like shit and Clint couldn't stand by whist the guy ripped a junior agent a new one for a tiny mistake on her first mission. 

 

_You have heart._

 

The thought ran unbidden through his mind and he shook his head slightly. Phil's eyebrow quirked minutely but Clint just smiled in return. He hated silence, it gave him time to think and he didn't need that at the moment. 

 

What annoyed him most was the Loki had been fucking right. 

 

Finally, Fury signed the last paper, closed the file and handed it to Phil who took it without a word. Clint expected Phil to leave but he didn't, he simply rounded the desk and stood beside Clint. 

 

“Take a seat, both of you,” Fury said and both of them complied. “I have a mission for you, Agent Barton.”

 

“Sir.” It was a simple statement. Of course he did and Clint was anxious to get out there again. 

 

“I want you as team leader on this one.”

 

Silence filled the room. Clint shot Phil a look who stared right back at him.

 

“Agent Coulson is always team leader, sir.”

 

“Agent Coulson is being assigned to a new team.”

 

Clint turned his whole head to stare at Phil this time and he didn't miss the apology in Phil's eyes. He'd known. He'd already fucking known and he didn't bother to tell him. Clint hurried to hide the betrayal he felt but he knew Phil had seen it. The man always could read him like a book. 

 

“You're being promoted, Agent Barton.”

 

“You're taking me off active duty?” Clint asked, something akin to fear swirling in his gut. 

 

“Not at all, Agent, you'll be leading from the battlefield as it where.” Fury opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a mission file and handed it to Clint. “The brief is in there. Your team is made up of Agents Ramirez, Cooper and Johnson. Simple mission. Firstly, liaise with Agent Cooper who has been working undercover with our target, Henry Douglas.” 

 

Clint leafed through the mission brief as he listened.

 

“Jesus, is there any kind of trafficking this guys not involved in?” he mumbled. “Drugs, arms, human...”

 

“Alien,” Fury interjected, making Clint look up. “He's been on our radar for a while and we've been gathering Intel on his activities. Recently, he acquired a large amount of alien weaponry. We don't know where he got it or how, it's why we sent Agent Cooper in.”

 

“What has she found out so far?”

 

“Not much,” Phil said. “He doesn't trust easily but he's started to open up to her a little bit more. She sent through a coded message two days ago requesting extraction and assistance in Douglas' arrest.”

 

“You were her handler?” Clint asked. Phil nodded. 

 

Clint looked back at the file before him. 

 

“So, liaise with Cooper, arrest Douglas, seize the weaponry.”

 

“In a nutshell,” Fury said, with a hint of a smile.

 

“Piece of cake,” Clint required, flashing a shit eating grin. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

“Clint. Clint!”

 

Clint stopped and waited for Phil to catch up with him. 

 

“Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the new team. Fury didn't want me to say anything until it was all finalised and he'd talked to you about your promotion. I didn't know he was going to tell you until just before you arrived.”

 

“Phil, it's Ok.”

 

“No it's not, I hated lying to you. And...”

 

“And?” Clint asked, frowning a little at Phil's flustered tone. 

 

“I'm not looking forward to you going off on missions without me,” Phil said quietly. 

 

“Ditto,” Clint replied, pressing a quick kiss to Phil's lips. “It's gonna be weird not having your voice in my ear.”

 

Phil smiled and pulled Clint into another, more lingering kiss. 

 

“I have to go get Ramirez and Johnson briefed, pack up the gear, sort out the jet...”

 

“How long do you think you'll be gone?”

 

“Probably no more than a couple of days.”

 

“I'll be here waiting when you get back.” Phil said and wrapped his arms around Clint, pulling him close. “I'm gonna miss you, babe.”

 

“Miss you too.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

“Well, hello Mr-Level-Eight-Agent-Only-Answers-To-Coulson-Hill-And-Fury.”

 

“If that is a new nickname you're working on for me, Ramirez, it needs some serious work,” Clint said with a grin pulling Marcus Ramirez into a bear hug. Marcus was a little taller than Clint, jet black hair gelled into an almost-quiff on the side and deep brown eyes that could be warm one minute and intimidating in their darkness the next. They'd joined SHIELD about the same time and gone through training together becoming firm friends despite an almost ten year age difference. Hell, Marcus was almost like the little brother he'd never had. 

 

“Man, it's been too long since we got to go hunting together!” Marcus laughed. 

 

“Yeah, and now I'm your leader so you gotta do everything I say. Suck on that!”

 

“Hey! I'll have you know I was pleased to find out you got promoted. If anyone deserves it, it's you. You work your ass off, man.”

 

“Yeah, well, I can't exactly do undercover shit with the whole Avenger thing. I guess Fury figured I needed a change of pace.”

 

“Well, I'm happy for you man,” Marcus said, clapping Clint on the shoulder. “So, this Douglas douche, tell me we are gonna go in all guns blazing and take that mother fucker down.”

 

“Well, lets have a chat with Coop first. I promise, if all guns need to be blazing, you can blaze in first.”

 

“Ahhh thanks, man. Use me as a human shield, I know what's going on here!”

 

Clint laughed and then stumbled as someone jumped on his back.

 

“Agent Johnson, reporting for duty, SIR!” Max Johnson saluted but the effect was ruined by the fact that she was hanging off of Clint's back with her arm's wrapped around his neck, almost choking him. She jumped down, grinning like a Cheshire cat and planted herself squarely in front of Clint. Her dark wavy hair was loose but the ever present hair band on her wrist showed she was ready to sweep it into her customary pony tail the moment it got annoying. Her eyes were so dark they seemed almost black and glinted dangerously when she was angry, enough to make even the toughest henchman wet his pants. Those eyes gave him a quick once over. “It's about damn time.”

 

“Agent?” 

 

“It's about damn time you got eighted,” she said and then turned, grabbing her gear from where she'd dropped it behind him and marched through to the briefing room. Clint huffed a laugh, before grabbing his own gear and following her inside, Marcus just behind him. 

 

Once the three of them were settled around the table, Clint handed them each a manilla folder. 

 

“Ok gang, the mission is pretty damn simple. Meet up with Coop and get her intel. Pass on the location of the alien weaponry Douglas has accumulated to the pick up team. Extract Coop and bring Douglas in. Find out where the hell he got the weapons and then send his ass to jail. Any questions?”

 

“I got one,” Marcus said, raising his hand. “Have you been taking mission briefing lessons from Coulson? Because that was spooky.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“No, seriously, it was like he was here in the room with us.”

 

“Marcus, shut up,” Clint said and threw his pen at him. Marcus caught the projectile with a laugh. “If there aren't any serious questions, then lets gear up and move out.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

“So, I thought you'd be freaking out by now man.”

 

Clint glanced over at his co-pilot and quirked an eyebrow. 

 

“When have I ever 'freaked out'?” he asked. 

 

“True,” Marcus acquiesced, seeming serious for the first time since they'd been assigned the mission. “It's just...I know you went through a lot with Loki and thinking Phil was dead. And now everything's changed and he's not in you ear any more. Gonna be pretty damn weird for you. I was expecting you to be a bit more...I dunno...hesitant.”

 

“You hesitate, you get people killed. It's not my style,” Clint answered. 

 

Marcus had, of course, hit the nail on the head. He _was_ freaking out but he would never show his team that. Not having Phil on the mission was like loosing a security blanket and Clint knew that was part of the reason Fury has done this; to make everyone, even Clint himself, see that he could stand on his own two feet, that he was still the same Agent Barton that had been compromised and used as a weapon against his will. He knew it wasn't a coincidence that his new team consisted of Marcus, Max and Coop. The four of them had always gotten on, always worked well together and Max had had three weeks in the gun cage recently for breaking a fellow agents arm...an agent that had said Clint could have fought Loki’s mind control off if he'd really wanted to. Aside from Natasha and his higher ups, the three team agents he'd been assigned had been his most vehement supporters after Loki. 

 

“Nah, it ain't your style,” Marcus agreed. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

They rendezvoused with Agent Amy Cooper in a Wendy's off Route 281 in Marble Falls, Texas, about eight miles from where Henry Douglas was currently running his little empire in the Horseshoe Bay Resort Marriott hotel. Her normally long brown hair had been bleached blonde and hung loose around her face, heavy eye make-up bringing attention to her light green eyes. She arrived after them and ordered a large double stack meal and devoured it while the rest of them picked at the last of their fries. Max raised an eyebrow at the way Coop was practically inhaling her food. 

 

“What?” Coop said through a mouthful. 

 

“Nothing,” Max replied. “Just...never seen a skinny girl eat so much.”

 

“Yeah, well this guy seems to think women live of air, water and the occasional caesar salad. When Boss Man suggested Wendy's I thought I'd died and gone to heaven!”

 

“That's great,” Clint said, shaking his head. “When you're done you can...you know...tell us what you found out.”

 

“Oh sure, sure...one sec,” she shovelled the last of her burger into her mouth, washed it down with the last of her coke and burped. “Sorry. Man that was good. Ok, so, Douglas. He is a grade A asshole. I mean, he took me on as a PA to start with and I couldn't get jack shit. But I managed to 'accidentally' see his heavies bringing in a load of girls as part of his sex trafficking operation and as I wasn't fazed and didn't start screaming or trying to run...he started to like me. I became a PA for the illegal side of his business as well and I saw everything and dealt with all his paperwork and shit. So, I found out where the alien weapons are and where he got them from.” She stopped and glanced over at the dessert menu. “Could you guys eat dessert? I could eat dessert.”

 

“For real?” Max said. 

 

“Yeah...like a frosty would be good...”

 

“Marcus, hook Coop up with a frosty,” Clint said.

 

“Really?” Marcus said, looking over at Clint with his eyebrows raised. Clint just gave a curt nod in response, making Marcus shake his head but he got up without any real protest. 

 

“Chocolate please! Make it a large one!” Coop called after him. “Where was I?”

 

“The alien weapons?” Clint prompted. 

 

“Oh yeah, so the good news is the weapons aren't in Texas so he won't be able to stop us taking them. He's got a bunch a guys guarding them but nothing we can't handle. It's convenient too because the warehouse he's keeping them in is only over the state line from HQ in Massachusetts.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her bag and passed it to Clint. “That's the co-ordinates for the guns.” 

 

Clint glanced at the paper and then folded it and slipped it into his inside pocket. Marcus returned and placed the chocolate frosty in front of Coop, whose eyes lit up. 

 

“And what about Douglas? You know his movements, in your opinion when is gonna be best for us to take him? We need to organise it so the two hits are simultaneous.”

 

“In two days time. He has a meeting with a new perspective client for the guns. He'll have a sample of them with him to demonstrate.”

 

“If he's going to be demonstrating them, it's gonna be a secluded place, right?” Marcus remarked. 

 

“You got it. There's a lot of woodland and a couple of abandoned buildings near by. He's meeting them there.” 

 

She pulled out a map folded so that the hotel and the meeting place were both visible, both circled in red. Clint took the map and scanned it over, mind already coming up with strategies. They'd need to head out there and assess the surrounding area before he could make a decision. He smiled and nodded at Coop. 

 

“Once we've taken Douglas in and the guns are seized, we'll go after the source. You got a report on that for me?”

 

“Uh-huh,” she said and reached into her bag, pulling out a memory stick and handing it over. “All the info is on there; names, addresses, pick up points and times. All the kind of stuff. I pulled it from his laptop.”

 

You've done a great job, Coop.”

 

“Thanks, Boss Man.” Coop smiled proudly and went back to eating her frosty. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Clint scanned the area taking in the two SUVs, one red and one black, as they pulled in. Henry Douglas climbed smoothly out of the black SUV and slammed the door with force. He looked a lot younger in the flesh. Clint knew from the brief that Douglas was roughly thirty years old but his face was young making him look more like he was in his early twenties. He wore a light blue v-neck t-shirt under a grey blazer which hung loose and open, sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms thick with muscle. The black lines of a tattoo just peaked out of the neck of the t-shirt hinting to the artwork beneath. Two long gold chains around his neck, one with a medallion of some sort on the end, the other adorned with three rings threaded onto the chain. He wore dark aviators, grey slacks that matched his blazer and loafers. The whole look resulted in Douglas looking like some kind of 80's reject. 

 

“Lovin' the guys style,” Clint mumbled over the comm earning a short, sharp laugh from Marcus. 

 

Clint focussed on Coop standing at the back of the group, her hair pulled up into an elegant bun, pencil skirt and high heels showing off her long legs. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and a hand flew up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She looked nervous. It wasn't a look Clint was used to seeing on Coop. 

 

“Max, you got eyes on Coop?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“She look...antsy to you?”

 

“Was just thinking that Boss Man. Never seen her look so edgy.”

 

“Be alert. Something smells funny.”

 

They held their position as Douglas shook his associates hand and led the group into the building. Coop, once again bringing up the rear, shot a look over the tree to where she knew Clint was perched and even from this distance, Clint's keen eyes picked up the fear in her eyes, the nervous swallow that rippled her throat and the tense clench of her hands. 

 

“Stand by, stand by. Agent Cooper showing signs of distress. Be ready to move out on my mark,” Clint said as he slid down from his perch landing in an easy crouch at the base of the tree. “We are go. I repeat, we are go.”

 

He didn't stop to see if Max and Marcus were following his orders, he knew they would be. Sticking to the plan, Clint ran in a crouch towards the building. He caught sight of Max to his left and knew Marcus was on his right. They were halfway to the building when the sound of gunfire filled the air. It wasn't the demonstration. Coop had already pointed out the testing area just outside the building on their recon. Beside, it was a sound Clint knew well, the steady rat-tat-tat-tat of a Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun. Nothing alien about it. 

 

“Double time! Double time!” Clint shouted, giving up on the crouch as a bullet whizzed past his position. He ran full pelt towards the building, Marcus and Max close behind. He fired short bursts from the gun in his hand, wishing he had his bow instead, targeting the windows where he could see Douglas' henchmen positioned. He burst through the door with a single kick, leaving it hanging uselessly on its hinges with the ferocity. He went through the opening, gun raised and a did a quick sweep of the room, taking in Coop who had helped herself to one of the guns, kicked off her heels and was taking the henchmen by surprise by attacking from behind; taking in the way Max and Marcus were efficiently taking the men down whilst making their way to cover; took in the fact that Douglas and his associate where no where to be seen, a secondary door at the rear showing their escape route; taking in the man in the centre of the room, arms tied tight behind the chair he was sat on, ankles bound, mouth gagged. 

 

He took this all in in a fraction of a second and was just about to head out the back after Douglas when the bound man looked up and met his eye. 

 

Clint stopped. He froze as those eyes met his. He felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut. He heard someone shout his name and then staggered as a bullet slammed into his exposed side, the kevlar stopping the bullet from ripping into his flesh but leaving a fierce, throbbing pain in its wake. He snapped back to himself, turned and fired in one fluid motion taking his assailant out. He grabbed the chair with the man still tied to it and dragged it to a more sheltered place. He didn't look at the man again, he didn't reach up to untie him. He simply hunkered down beside him and started firing. There were more guys than had come out of the SUVs and Clint cursed. They'd been dragged into an ambush. When the last guy fell, dead, Clint stood and kicked the nearest object. 

 

Douglas had got away. 

 

“Report!” he shouted. 

 

“Alive and kicking,” Max replied stepping out from her cover. 

 

“I've had worse,” Coop said, hand pressed to her arm where a steady trickle of blood seeping through her fingers revealed where she'd been nicked by a passing bullet. 

 

“Marcus?”

 

“Never better,” Marcus replied, although a couple of dark bruises where already forming on his face and his knuckles were torn. “Had to beat one down but he couldn't handle my sheer power.” He shot Clint a grin but it faltered at the stern look on his friends face. “What about you?”

 

“Think that bullet bruised a rib. Nothing major.”

 

“What happened with that? You just kind of...stopped,” Marcus said carefully, not wanting to accuse Clint of hesitating after their earlier conversation on the jet. 

 

Clint didn't reply. He just reached down, grabbed the guy in the chair and dragged him into the middle of the group. 

 

“Guys, meet Charles Bernard Barton. My piece of shit brother.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Clint stared at the door to medical. Part of him wanted to go in and smash a fist into Barney's face. Part of him wanted to walk away and pretend his brother wasn't in there. Part of him wanted to just go find Phil. He rolled his shoulders, pushed open the door and marched through. He walked past where Coop was having the gash in her arm stitched up and carried on to where the curtains were drawn around the last bed in the ward. He pulled the curtains roughly aside making the nurse turn quickly to face him. 

 

“Agent Barton,” she said a little stiffly. 

 

“How is he?”

 

“He'll survive. He's taking a bit of a beating but nothing too bad.”

 

“Good. Agents Ramirez and Johnson will be here soon to take him to be interrogated.”

 

“Agent Barton this man still needs medical attention.”

 

“You just said he was fine.”

 

“No, I...”

 

“Are any of his injuries life threatening?” Clint demanded, cutting her off. 

 

“Well, no. But...”

 

“Good.” Clint spun on his heel and marched from the room, his eyes not once straying to the man in the bed. 

 

A junior agent in the hall stood to attention as he came out of the ward. 

 

“Sir, Director Fury requests you meet him in his office to debrief.”

 

“Thanks, Carter,” Clint mumbled. 

 

Carter nodded and walked away. Clint heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. He was not looking forward to this. 

 

He made his way to Fury's office. The usual stares burned into his skin but they bothered him more this time. He'd been promoted, Fury had given him a chance and Clint had fucked it all up. He was every bit the asshole they thought he was. He knocked on the door once, waited for the call to enter and paused for a second, hand hovering over the doorknob. He took a breath and found himself hoping Phil wasn't in there. He hadn't seen him since they got back and walking into an ambush to find his estranged brother tied up in a bundle on the floor wasn't exactly how he'd envisioned the mission panning out. Phil knew all about Barney, about why they hadn't spoken in over twenty years. Phil would understand why his skin was crawling at the thought of having Barney in the same _state_ as him let alone the same building. Phil would know exactly what to say to make him feel like himself and not that little kid Barney had almost destroyed, he would know how to make him focus on the mission, would know how to make this Ok again. But part of him didn't want to feel better. He wanted to be angry...and he didn't want Phil to see him like this, so...damaged. 

 

He opened the door with a barely audible sigh. Phil wasn't there and Fury wasn't sat behind his desk this time. He was stood in front of it, leaning against the front, hands gripping the edge tightly. Anyone else might have looked at Fury and saw anger. But Clint also knew Director Fury as Nick, and this was Nick concerned. As soon as the door shut, Fury pushed himself of the desk and took a step forward. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him with his one piercing eye. 

 

“How you doing?” he asked. 

 

“I'm fine,” Clint lied. 

 

“Bullshit.” Clint huffed a laugh and looked at the floor. “I'm not your superior right now,” Fury continued. “I'm your friend and I'm worried. I know you, Clint. You lost the target...you _never_ loose the target. And I may not know the ins and outs of what went down with your brother but I do know that it wasn't anything good. I've known you for almost fifteen years and you've never once showed any interest in finding him. Hell, we're SHIELD. We could have found him in a blink of my eye but you never wanted that. So now that he's been handed to you, all trussed up like a parcel, I think I'm allowed to be a little dubious when you say you're 'fine'.”

 

“Ok, so I'm not fine. But I'm a big boy. I'll deal. What I really wanna know is what the hell he was doing there? I mean, my first op as team leader and my brother just happens to be in the area? That's dodgy as hell.” Fury shifted and something about it, made Clint pause. “You know something.” It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. Nick knew how, why, Barney had been in that room. “Tell me.”

 

Fury stared at him, disapproval of his tone evident in the purse of his lips, but he didn't comment. Instead he said something which threw Clint almost as much as finding his brother in the damn first place. 

 

“We ran him through the database to see if we could find out any known aliases. He's not a criminal. He's FBI.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“He's FBI, Clint. He was working undercover. I've already spoken to his SO. She's on her way here now so that we can work together to find out what happened and bring Douglas in.”

 

“I'm sorry...you won't me to work _with_ him? No. No way, Nick.”

 

“Clint. I'm asking you to do your job. If this is gonna ruin my day, I'll make it an order. This is your op, your team, your target. And he's in the wind. So you've gotta be the one to bring him in. I know this is hard, I do, and I wish this could go down any other way. But you know as well as I that there is a lot of rumours fluttering around this organisation about what happened with Loki. It's too soon after that for me to pass this off to another team without you suffering the backlash and having 'compromised' thrown in your face.” Nick took another step forward and placed a hand on Clint's shoulder, a move that was so un-Fury that Clint looked down at the man's hand and then up at his face, eyebrow a little raised. “After everything that you went through, I'm not gonna let that happen. You've suffered enough.”

 

Clint didn't really know what to say to that. Emotion from Fury that wasn't....well, fury...was an uncommon occurrence. He simply nodded and looked away, feeling a little relieved when the hand left his shoulder and Fury sat down at his desk. 

 

“That being said, my target is gone. So, get your butt back down to your team, hook up with the other Agent Barton and his SO and find the son of a bitch.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Clint said and left the room with something like dread swirling in his stomach. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

“So, we're not interrogating him then?” Coop asked.

 

“Not as such,” Clint replied, with a half shrug as if he didn't care. As if he didn't feel sick to his stomach. “It's a meeting instead. A sharing of ideas, if you will.”

 

“So we're working with them? Because no disrespect Boss Man but when we found his sorry ass, you didn't exactly seem overjoyed to see him,” Max commented. 

 

“Lucky for you, I'm a damn professional,” Clint says with a smirk and leads his team into the meeting room where his brother and SO were sat at the table already deep in conversation. 

 

Clint let his eyes skim over the two of them, taking in his brothers bruised face and stiff posture. His SO was a woman in her forties, dark skin, dark eyes and a cascade of black, shining hair that fell in a ponytail over one shoulder. She had a blunt fringe which added to the overall strength of her facial features and her eyes darted over to Clint's team as they entered with a gleam to them that hinted at the strength of character she possessed. Clint thought he might end up liking her. It was a shame she was sat next to his least favourite person in the world. Barney looked a lot like their dad and it further reinforced Clint's hatred. His hair was longer than Clint's short crop and stuck out in all directions, his stubble was almost thick enough to be called a beard and his eyes where the same shape and colour as Clint's. As if on cue their eyes met. There was something in Barney's eyes that looked like joy or relief but Clint's eyes remained cold and hard. 

 

Almost as one, Clint and his team pulled out their chairs and sat down, the four of them on one side facing the FBI agents like they were in a stand-off. The air crackled. Clint knew he had to get the ball rolling but for a few moments he couldn't get any words out past the anger that was closing up his throat. He coughed and leant back in his chair. 

 

“So, the FBI is interested in Douglas too, huh?”

 

“Oh please, you only became interested in Douglas after the alien weapons showed up. Where were you guys when it was just teenage girls and drugs he was working with?” the woman scoffed. 

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name,” Clint said in a tone that she he wasn't sorry at all. 

 

“It's Agent Malone, Beth Malone.”

 

“Well Agent Malone, Beth Malone, in case you hadn't noticed we've been a bit busy protecting the world from aliens that until recently the general populace didn't know existed.”

 

“Good job on that by the way. New York really took a beating.”

 

“We stopped the threat didn't we. Where were you guys by the way? Don't remember you helping with the fight or the clean-up.”

 

“SHIELD's mess, SHIELD's problem.”

 

“Nice to see we have some stellar inter-office teamwork going on.”

 

“When was the last time you helped us?”

 

“Are we done with the macho bullshit? I mean, Beth, I'm expecting you to suddenly produce a dick out of your pants and start swinging it about,” Barney said, bringing everyone up short. “look, we may not like each other much, but on this occasion we can help each other and bring that bastard down.”

 

“We all know why you want to help them, Barton,” Malone said. “Your baby brother shows his face and suddenly we're bending over backwards to help him.”

 

Clint slammed his hand down on the table, making everyone jump and fall silent. 

 

“Enough. Although it pains me to say it, Barney's right. We need to work together on this. The alien weapons have already been seized. Thanks to Coop,” Clint gestured to the blond Agent sat on his right. “and her intel, we're tracking the supplier as we speak. But I am not letting Douglas get away. So, if I can put my issues aside and work with you, so can you.”

 

He stared at Malone and watched her stony facial expression harden for a moment before she blinked and gave a curt nod. 

 

“Ok, we'll share information first. Get everyone on the same page and go from there.”

 

Clint nodded and motioned towards Barney, managing to avoid actually looking at him. 

 

“How long had you been undercover with Douglas?”

 

“Six months. Just worked as a hired gun but his grunts see a lot. Get sent all over guarding his goods. I proved myself pretty handy so he started using me as one of his personal bodyguards. Not that he really needs them. You've seen the guy,” Barney motioned to Coop who nodded. “He's ripped as fuck. Guy could probably bench press a car and he's pretty damn handy. He used to get some of the guys to spar with him. To start with they went easy but he got real mad at that, told them to fight properly and they'd get a bonus if they could beat him. Only one guy got that bonus. Got handed a shit ton of money and pretty much became Douglas' right hand man.”

 

“So, you were in pretty tight with him then?” Marcus asked. 

 

“Yeah, I wasn't his confident like Miss Martin here.”

 

“Actually, my name is Agent Amy Cooper.”

 

“Apologies. As I was saying, I wasn't his confident but I was in pretty close.”

 

“So why did he kick you to the curb?” Max asked. 

 

Clint's eyes flicked over to Barney and saw that he was staring right back at him, fidgeting a little. 

 

“The night before, when you guys we're doing your little recon, he caught you on CCTV. Douglas is a real paranoid bastard. Put up some little web cams on the quiet and had someone watching it 24/7. So just before his client shows up we all get pulled into a meeting, every single one of us. He starts on this big rant about how someone has betrayed him, someone is a rat and he knows how to find out who. So then he puts up the footage of you guys checking out the area and there you are, clear as day. looking almost exactly the same as you did on the day you refused to get on that bus, just with a few more wrinkles thrown in. I think he was planning on bluffing and saying he'd found you all and was going to kill you unless someone gave themselves up. But he didn't get that far because as soon as I saw you, I...well, I almost shot out my chair and I said your name. That was good enough for him. I was the rat. So he had them beat the shit out of me and tie me up and took me to that fucking hut. Half an hour later, all hell breaks loose and you come barrelling through the door.”

 

“You got sloppy,” Clint sniffed. He didn't miss the hurt look that crossed his brothers features. Asshole. As if he had anything to feel hurt about. “So, what can you tell us about where he might go?”

 

“We have a few ideas where he might be heading. I hear Malta is good place to go if you're trying to hide from the likes of us. Ian Quinn runs most of his empire out there now,” Malone suggests. “Douglas is very found of the place.”

 

“I hope not. Because if he's headed out there, we can't follow him,” Clint muttered. 

 

“Or he could have headed back to the UK. It's his home, he has allies there,” Coop offered. Barney nodded in agreement. 

 

“We need to find him quick. It's not just the general trafficking and the alien weapons. There's a guy he works with, child genius born into a criminal family. He created a new type of drug. They say it hits your system and you feel like everything is moving in slow motion and then you get sucked into this dream world and it's like your floating. Sounds awesome, right, but like all drugs it has some pretty nasty side effects. It's incredibly addictive and once you start taking it, it eats away at your brain, turns you crazy. He had a couple of human lab rats and after about eight days on the drug they were rocking in corners, muttering to themselves. Then they turned violent. One of them smashed the other's head in against the wall then just sat there in the blood and stroked the guys face.”

 

“How do you know all this?”

 

“Seen the footage,” Barney shrugged. “Douglas and his Whiz Kid thought it was funny. I don't know if they ever worked the kinks out but they were still moving ahead with their distribution plan. We've got about a week before Douglas was planning on starting it's release.”

 

“Jesus. Like the world isn't crazy enough without him adding his own psychosis to it,” Marcus grumbled.

 

“Exactly,” Malone said. “That's why we need to stop him. Now.”

 

“At least we agree on that,” Clint said with a firm nod. “Ok, Coop you work with Barn...Barton and Malone, see if you can't figure out where he might be headed. Max, Marcus, you guys start trawling through the CCTV of the surrounding area of where we lost Douglas. I want to know where he went and I want to know now.” Clint got to his feet and started towards the door. 

 

“What are _you_ going to do?” Malone demanded, sounding pissed at being ordered around. 

 

“I'm heading out to get some help from a consultant,” Clint said without even turning around. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Clint got down to the garage and saw Phil leaning on Lola's bonnet as if he was waiting for him. He looked up as Clint neared him and pushed away from the car and pulled Clint into his arms. 

 

“You Ok? he asked, softly. 

 

“Yeah, I'm coping.”

 

“I saw him earlier. Had to stop myself from adding a few more bruises to his face.”

 

Clint chuckled. “I know the feeling.” he pulled away slightly and looked up into Phil's worried eyes. “I can't believe he's just suddenly here. Like it's totally normal.”

 

“Get Douglas and we can get rid of him.”

 

“Can we? He knows where I am now. What if he wants to try and fix things. I don't think I could go over it all with him and make him see...what he did...it was so...”

 

“Shhh, I know. It's Ok. We'll make him leave.”

 

“Sooner I find Douglas, sooner Barney is gone, right?”

 

“I'm guessing I won't be seeing you at home tonight.”

 

“Doubt it. I want this done.” Clint pressed a kiss to Phil's lips and then pulled away. 

 

“Where are you going now?”

 

“To see Stark.”

 

“I'll come with you.”

 

Clint stopped and turned to face Phil. 

 

“I thought you had a new team to sort out.”

 

“I do. But I'm on a break.”

 

“I don't need you to hold my hand, Phil,” Clint said after a pause. 

 

“I just want to help.”

 

“I know, babe. But I got this. Please.”

 

Phil nodded but didn't look happy. 

 

“You know you have nothing to prove, right?”

 

Clint said nothing because Phil was wrong. He had a shit tone to prove. 

 

“I'll see you later,” he said, turning away and heading towards his bike. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

“Barton, always a pleasure.” Tony stood with his back to Clint, looking out of the window over the New York skyline. 

 

“Hi Stark.” Clint strode into the room and stopped just behind Tony who made a show of spinning around to face him. “Dude, I need your help.”

 

Tony blinked at him and then smirked. 

 

“I love a man that skips the pleasantries and gets right down to business.” He waggled his eyebrows at Clint who rolled his eyes in return. “What can I do for you, Agent?”

 

“I need JARVIS to help me find a target.”

 

“Sure thing. Name?”

 

“Henry Douglas. DOB 13/01/1980. Real asshole. Gave me the slip and I intend to bring his ass back. I've got my team working on it but JARVIS has eyes everywhere and we're working against the clock.”

 

“You're team?” 

 

“Yeah, I was team leader. Just a couple of Agents.”

 

“You Ok?”

 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Clint sighed. “Yes, I'm fine, I just want to fix my mistake, get the guy and move on.”

 

“You just seem...on edge.”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

Tony stared at him for almost a full minute and then turned away. 

 

“J, start a search on Henry Douglas and send anything you find over the Agent Barton's cell.”

 

“Already started, sir,” the AI replied. 

 

“Thanks, JARVIS. Anything you can tell me about where he might be, anybody he has links to, places he owns. I've had eyes on the inside but he's a cagey guy. He won't have told them everything.”

 

“Consider it done, Agent Barton.”

 

“Thanks,” Clint said and headed back to the lift. 

 

“That's it? You could have done that over the phone you know.”

 

“I needed some air,” Clint said and ignored Tony's questioning gaze as the lift doors closed. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

JARVIS found a veritable mine of information on Douglas all of which was sent to his phone and his Stark Pad. Clint had sent the others off to eat and sleep but he stayed behind, trawling through the information and making notes to share with Coop later. He felt drained but he didn't think he would be able to sleep and the thought of food turned his stomach. He had to get this done. It wasn't about finding Douglas, not really, it was about getting rid of Barney. 

 

His past had caught up with him and he didn't like it.

 

He heard the door open and tensed but familiar hands smoothed over his shoulders and across his chest. Phil rested his head on Clint's shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. 

 

“Babe, it's almost midnight. You need to sleep.”

 

“Not tired.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“This needs to be done.”

 

“You're no good to anyone if you're dead on your feet.”

 

“Phil...”

 

“Where's your team?” Phil asked, knowingly. 

 

“I sent them off to eat and sleep,” Clint sighed, knowing the battle was lost. He let himself put the pad down and relax, suddenly realising how bone tired he was. When had he last slept? Before they'd tried to retrieve Douglas. When had that been? How long had been looking through this shit. He hadn't eaten since before then. Jesus, it was probably about thirty-six hours since he'd done either. “Ok, I give. Let's go home.” He got to his feet and staggered slightly, Phil's strong arms holding him steady. 

 

“I got you, baby,” Phil said softly and led him out of HQ and down to where Lola was waiting. Clint sank into her soft, leather seat and let his head loll back, eyes slipping closed immediately. He woke with start when Lola pulled up outside their apartment. Somehow, they got up the stairs and into the bedroom before Clint collapsed fully clothed on the bed. He felt Phil pull his shoes off and then crawl across the bed, tugging Clint towards his chest. Clint snuggled into the crook of Phil's neck, throwing an arm over Phil's chest and tangling their legs together. He breathed in deeply, taking in Phil's scent and letting it settle him like nothing else could. Sleep claimed him in seconds. 

 

He bolted upright three hours later, drenched in sweat and panting hard. The bedside lamp clicked on and the room was flooded with light. Phil was there, just like always, moving so that he was by Clint's feet in his line of sight, hands resting gently on his calves, warm through the sheet, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the muscles. Clint swallowed and tried to catch his breath. He pushed himself forward and into Phil's arms, breathing in that scent, willing it to sooth away the nightmare and stop the shakes that racked his body. Phil made soothing noises and rocked him gently. 

 

“It's Ok baby, it's Ok,” Phil said. 

 

“Fuck. That fucking asshole. He brought it all back. Every fucking moment.”

 

Phil manoeuvred them so that they could lie down, pulling Clint back down to his chest. 

 

“Try and get back to sleep,” he said, knowing Clint wouldn't want to talk about it. “You need it babe, I haven't seen you this tired since Budapest.”

 

Clint nodded but sleep wouldn't come. The threat of the memories lurking, waiting to pounce as soon as he closed his eyes was too great. After an hour, he gave up and climbed out of the bed, trying not to wake Phil who was snoring softly. He padded down the corridor and into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. His pad and phone were on the side, Phil must have picked them up because Clint knew he hadn't. He grabbed his pad and went to the living room, sinking into the sofa. He devoured his sandwich in about three bites and then started looking though all the information again. Half an hour later he sat up a little straighter as a new alert pinged through.

 

Douglas had been sighted at Stansted airport in London. 

 

He vaulted off the sofa, bone weariness pushed away and buried under the desire to get this done. It looked like Coop's hunch had been right. They had to move quick. He already had about a seven hour head start on them. He typed out a quick message and sent it to his team, asking them to alert Malone and Barney. He jumped in the shower and washed quickly. He turned off the water, grabbed a towel and then went through to the bedroom, rubbing his hair dry. He pulled on some clothes and then gently shook Phil's shoulder. Phil rolled over slightly and his eyes cracked open. It said a lot about how safe Phil felt here, in their home, that he didn't snap to full alertness and go for a gun. 

 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

 

“About 5:30.”

 

“You going back to work?”

 

“Got a lead. Gonna get everyone together and then head out to London.”

 

“London?”

 

“Yeah he was sighted at Stansted. He's got a head start but at least we know where to look.”

 

“You told Fury yet?”

 

“I'll do it on the way.”

 

“How you getting to SHIELD?”

 

Clint smiled fondly down at Phil and his sleep tousled hair. 

 

“Phil, believe it or not, I can do this whole organising thing.”

 

“Huh...you never did when you were on my team,” Phil said playfully. 

 

“Yeah, well, I know how much you love it. I couldn't take that away from you.”

 

“Always so considerate.”

 

“I try.” Clint leant down and ended the conversation with a slow, deep kiss. Phil hummed and tried to pull him down but Clint braced against the mattress and kept himself upright. “I have to go,” he mumbled against his lips. “I'll call you from London.”

 

Phil sighed but said nothing, leaning up to capture one more kiss and then letting Clint go. Clint slid off the bed and grabbed his go bag from the bottom of the wardrobe. He stopped in the doorway to their room and looked back at Phil who has pushed himself up a little so he could watch Clint go. 

 

“I love you,” Clint said quietly and Phil smiled. 

 

“Love you too. Stay safe.”

 

Clint nodded and closed the door behind him. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Marcus was already sitting in the car outside their building when Clint got downstairs. 

 

“You got here quick,” Clint commented. 

 

“Yeah well, even your text managed to sound urgent.”

 

“I got a lead.”

 

“No shit. If you dragged me out of bed at 5am for anything less than a lead then we'd be having words, Level-Eight or not.”

 

Clint laughed and it seemed like forever since he'd done that. They had a destination, they weren't flying blind any more. Hopefully, soon this would all be over and Barney could go back to being a memory and nothing more. He text Fury the details and wasn't surprised when he received an almost immediate response asking him to go to Fury's office as soon as he arrived at HQ. Clint had always suspected that Fury didn't actually sleep but rather dozed in a state of constant readiness. When Marcus pulled into his parking space, Clint was out of the car before it had fully stopped. 

 

“Grab the others and get everyone into the same room as before. I'll be there soon as,” he said. 

 

“Sure thing, Boss Man,” Marcus replied, switching off the engine. 

 

Clint jogged up to Fury's office, knocked on the door and entered before Fury had a chance to call him in. 

 

“He's got a head start but we're localising our search. London is a big city but we'll find him,” he said. 

 

Fury looked at him with the hint of a smile. Clint belatedly realised that he wasn't at attention and he hadn't waited for Fury to ask him to speak. He clasped his hands behind his back and fell silent. 

 

“Take a seat, Clint.”

 

Hearing Fury use his first name relaxed Clint straight away and he strode forward and flopped down into one of the chairs in front of the desk. 

 

“We can get him,” he said, earnestly. 

 

“I know. You've slept?”

 

Clint blinked in surprise. 

 

“I got a couple of hours.”

 

“As in two?”

 

“Three...”

 

Fury sighed. 

 

“Eaten?”

 

“Had a sandwich.”

 

“Your team?”

 

“All had mandatory sleep hours and meals.”

 

“So why not you?”

 

Clint fidgeted in his seat under the glare levelled at him as if Fury was looking into him. 

 

“Couldn't sleep and I wasn't hungry.”

 

“That's what I thought.” Fury got to his feet and strode over to the corner of the room. Clint turned and saw he'd walked right past a table laden with food and drink. There was pasta and pizza and fries next to bottles of Coke and Dr Pepper and even a couple of little cake things. “Here's the deal. I want to see you eat at least three slices of pizza and then I'll wrap the rest to go. One of the jets is being readied to go and there is food for the others on there too. Once you brief your team and get them to work on finding him, you grab as many hours of sleep as you can before you touch down in London. You promise me this, and you are cleared to head out as soon as you can.”

 

“None of the others can fly the jet.”

 

“Well, then lucky for you Junior Agent Katsuhiko Fukuda is just _dying_ to work with you. God only knows why,” Fury smirked. “He'll be flying the jet. No more arguments Clint. If you can't do this, I'll ground you for eight hours.”

 

“Ok, fine,” Clint said, knowing that Fury really would do just that. He got to his feet and strode over to the table. It was his favourite pizza, BBQ meat feast with added chillies. He grabbed a slice and shoved it into his mouth. Once he started, he realised he was actually hungry. He almost finished the pizza and fries before he felt a little more full. He'd eaten it all in under five minutes. “Ok, so maybe I was hungry,” Clint admitted, unscrewing the top off a Dr Pepper and draining it in six gulps. “I'll take the rest to go.” Clint clapped a hand to Fury's shoulder and Fury honest to God chuckled. 

 

“You got it, now get out there and brief your team.” Clint grabbed two more bottles of Dr Pepper and was half way out the door when Fury stopped him. “Oh and Clint, remember, you're no good to your team or anyone else if your half dead on your feet. They need their leader to have a clear head and no distractions.” Clint nodded. 

 

He didn't think Fury was just talking about having a full stomach and a rested body. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Clint looked around the jet and allowed himself to relax a little. Fukuda was sat in the pilots seat. He was a young guy, only about twenty-two, but a brilliant pilot and according to his file, a very accomplished agent. The rest of the team was sat in a circle on the floor of the jet, Stark pads out, talking about where Douglas might have been heading, how they could track him down. Clint had given his pad to Coop who was looking through everything JARVIS had sent and letting them know anything new that popped up. They hadn't known the name of Douglas' Whiz Kid but Barney had seen him on the footage and had described him to Max who was an accomplished sketch artist and she produced an artist rendering. They'd managed to get this to Tony who was running it through everything he could get his hands on to find out who he was and where he could be. It seemed more and more likely that wherever the kid was, that's where Douglas was heading. Clint closed his eyes and leant back against the wall of the jet and willed himself to sleep. He was tired as hell, but the memory of his nightmare still lingered and that coupled with the unease of having Barney so close, was putting him on edge, enough so that sleep seemed light years away. But he'd learnt to sleep where he could so he focussed on his breathing, taking deep, even breaths and cleared his mind. He started counting slowly in his head and he was asleep before he reached twenty. 

 

He woke when Marcus said his name softly and gripped his shoulder. Clint managed not to punch him in the face and instead stretched until he felt his back click. 

 

“We're just about to land,” Marcus said. 

 

“Thanks,” Clint replied and pulled himself to his feet. He made his way through to the cockpit area and sat down in the co-pilot seat. “How you doing, Fukuda?” 

 

“All good, sir. We'll be starting our decent in five minutes.”

 

“Good. Did Agent Ramirez come and brief you?”

 

“Yes, sir. I know all about Douglas and the drug. Can I just say...how awesome it is to be working with you, sir...”

 

“Please, kid, working with me is nothing special.”

 

“Whatever you say, sir. I still feel pretty honoured to be here.”

 

“You land us safe and sound and help us catch this guy...I might just be honoured to have you,” Clint said shooting the junior agent a smirk. 

 

Fukuda laughed and nodded his head. Clint was starting to like the guy. They landed without incident at a private runway where two black SUV's were already waiting for them. They all clambered in; Clint driving one with Coop and Fukuda, whilst Marcus got behind the wheel of the second car with Max in the front and Barney and Malone in the back. The drive to the safe house was uneventful and when they arrived it was almost midnight local time. 

 

“Ok gang, get some shut eye. I don't want to see anyone up and about until 0600. Fukuda, you get a lay in buddy. We'll see at 0730.” 

 

He watched as his team all found a bed or somewhere else to crash. The safe house was a two bed apartment with one bathroom, a living area and a small kitchenette. There wasn't really enough sleeping space for them all but like Clint himself, his agents could sleep anywhere. Fukuda was forced to take one half of the double bed whilst Coop unabashedly clambered in beside him. Malone took the single bed in the next room whilst Barney curled up in an armchair in the corner of the same room. Max and Marcus simply dragged a couple of blankets and pillows out of one of the wardrobes and settled themselves on the floor in the master bedroom. Clint took the sofa but he was pretty well rested. At least he wasn't disturbing any of the others in here. He switched on the TV, flicked to the BBC News station and turned the volume down low. He grabbed his go bag and pulled out his Stark pad before pulling out the notes the others had made whilst he slept on the jet. He was reading thorough them when he became aware that someone was coming down the corridor. He looked up just as Barney entered the living area. He held his brothers gaze for a second and then looked down at the notes in his hand. 

 

“It's not 0600.”

 

“Clint...”

 

“I said I didn't want to see anyone up and about before 0600. Go back to bed.”

 

“Clint, can we just...”

 

“No.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me, I said no. Go back to bed Barney.”

 

“Clint, please...”

 

“Please what, Barney?” Clint snapped, looking back up at his brother. “Please talk to you? Please let you explain? Please forgive you?”

 

Barney closed his eye briefly and then looked down at the floor. 

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“It's not enough. It will never be enough.”

 

“I wish I could go back and fix this. I wish I could change what I did.”

 

“You can't. You have to live with what you did, same as me.”

 

“I just thought...”

 

“Barney, I don't care. I really don't. I wish you weren't here, but you are and I already screwed this up enough because of you. So, just...leave it, Ok?”

 

“How can I? You hate me. I understand, of course I do. But you're my brother. I love you.”

 

“You love me?” Clint said, incredulously, feeling the anger thrumming through his body. 

 

“I looked for you for years, but you're a hard man to find.”

 

“I had good reason to hide. I was avoiding you. I didn't want you to find me.”

 

“But...I can make this right. It was over twenty years ago. You have to give me a chance to fix this.”

 

Clint didn't remember getting to his feet. He didn't remember marching across the small room and grabbing Barney by the front of his shirt. But all of a sudden he had shoved Barney hard into the nearest wall, leaning in so close their noses were almost touching. He wanted to scream in his face, but even through his anger, Clint remembered his sleeping team. He didn't want to wake them. 

 

He certainly didn't want them to hear this. 

 

“You can never fix this. I was thirteen years old. Just a kid and I needed my big brother to help me. I needed you to stop him. You were right there, Barney. You could have saved me and you walked away.”

 

“I know. I hate myself for what I did. I should have stopped him...I should have...I was scared, Clint...I was so scared of him...”

 

“ _You_ were scared? He tormented me for months. He treated me like dirt. I didn't want to be his damn apprentice. I didn't want to work with the damn swords but you said it was an opportunity I couldn't afford to miss. Same as when I started looking good with a bow you said I couldn't pass up the chance of working with Trickshot. I told you I was scared of the Swordsman. I told you I was scared he'd do something if I changed mentors and you just told me to get over it.”

 

“I know,” Barney whispered, his voice dripping in torment. 

 

“He _raped_ me.” The word hung heavy in the air between them and Barney closed his eyes as though it physically hurt him to hear. “You came in, saw it happening and just...walked away. I was begging him to stop, begging you for help. I called out to you and you just left me there with him. You could have stopped him. You could have gotten help.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“That was the first time but it wasn't the last. Did you know that? You let him get away with it. You told me never to speak about it, said we'd get thrown out. Do you think I cared? I wanted to leave but I stayed...I stayed for you. Two years where we never spoke about it and it was still going on all that time.”

 

“I'm sorry.” Barney was crying silent tears but Clint didn't care. He wanted to break Barney. 

 

“And then one day you just announce your leaving.”

 

“I asked you to come with me,” Barney said. 

 

“I hated you. By the time you wanted to leave I could barely stand the sight of you. But I still would have come with you.” Clint felt the anger starting to slip away and he released his brother, taking a staggering step back. “I was going to come but he caught me packing. He beat the shit out of me, held me down and did his thing and then just left me there. I almost died.”

 

“I didn't know...”

 

“You never should have left. You should have come back for me. I would never have left you behind,” Clint said, turning his back on Barney. 

 

“Clint...”

 

“Go back to sleep, Barney. Tomorrow, we need to find Douglas and then I want you gone.”

 

Silence seemed to throb through the room for a few minutes before with a sad sigh, Clint heard Barney walk away. The bedroom door closed with a soft click and Clint sank back down onto the sofa, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Clint forced himself to get a couple of hours sleep so that he was well rested for the next day. After the nightmare hit again, he gave up but figured he'd got enough sleep on the jet to be Ok. Once he was awake his mind kept thinking about the dream and his confrontation with Barney. The last time he'd talked about the rape he'd suffered as a kid was when he'd gotten blind drunk and confessed all to Phil through sobs that threatened to tear his body apart. They'd discussed it once he'd sobered up and Phil had promised not to tell anyone but had always said if he ever met Barney, he would rip him apart. Clint was quietly proud that even though it pained Phil to do so, he'd remained professional when he'd seen him. If he'd beat the shit out of Barney at HQ, Clint wasn't sure he'd be able to just carry on like everything was fine. Besides, he didn't want anyone to know what had happened, he didn't want anyone to ask questions about why he hated his brother so much and if Phil; cool, calm, unflappable Phil; had started whaling on his brother, Clint just knew people would start to figure some shit out.

 

He shook his head. Fury's words echoed in his mind. He needed to have a clear head to lead his team, so he did the only thing aside from Phil, that every truly relaxed him. He grabbed his kit bag, pulled out his collapsible bow, opened it up and started cleaning. Once he'd done that he tested it out for a bit, drawing and releasing the empty string, loving the familiar pull in his muscles. He checked the time and saw it was still only 4:30am. He pulled out his side arm and took it apart and cleaned each part, before reassembling it with sure movements. After about an hour he headed out of the safe house and down to a small bakery he'd seen when they arrived. It was just opening and he got everyone a croissant for breakfast before heading back and setting up the coffee machine. By the time it was ready he could hear movement down the hall. 

 

The first one up was Barney and Clint managed not to scream in frustration. 

 

“Clint, about last night...”

 

“I think we said everything there was to say.”

 

“I know. look, I can never fix what happened, I know that, and it's obvious me being here is making this difficult for you.”

 

“I'm a professional. I can cope.”

 

“I know. I just...I just want you to know that as soon as we get Douglas, I'll go. I won't bother you, I promise.”

 

“Good.”

 

“But if you ever want to...”

 

“I won't,” Clint replied bluntly, looking at Barney for the first time. He looked away when Marcus came into the living area. He glanced between the two brothers, taking in the awkward atmosphere and raising an eyebrow at Clint. “Coffee's on the side, croissants on the table.” Clint said and made his way out of the room to the bathroom. 

 

When he returned, everyone was sitting around the living area in various stages of breakfast. Coop was savouring every mouthful of her croissant, Malone was clutching her coffee like it was a lifeline and Max was just pouring herself a second cup. She grabbed another one and handed it to Clint who took it gratefully. 

 

“How's everyone this morning?” he asked. 

 

“Recovering now, thanks to your grub run, Boss Man” Coop said, with a smile. She was helping herself to the second half of Marcus' croissant that he hadn't eaten. Once again Clint looked at the svelte figure and wondered where the hell Coop put it all. He shook his head and grabbed his Stark pad and started flicking through his messages.

“Well, eat up,” he said, stopping on an interesting email. “looks like we got a lead.”

 

“Yeah?” Fukuda piped up.

 

“JARVIS just sent me this.” Clint turned his pad around so the others could see the CCTV image on his screen. It showed Douglas shaking the hand of a young guy outside a nightclub. It was time stamped for late the night before.

 

“That's the Whiz Kid,” Barney said. 

 

“You sure?” Malone asked. 

 

“Definitely.”

 

“Where was this taken?” Max said. 

 

“Lincoln. It's a couple of hours from here.”

 

“Douglas brought an old abandoned military hospital in Lincolnshire recently. There was a pretty big thing about it because it had become a target for vandals and arsonists and people wanted to preserve the history of it. He said he was going to work on restoring it, find a new use for it,” Coop said. “It was one of the things I worked one whilst I was undercover.”

 

“What better place to run his empire from? A giant, old hospital in need of repair. He could fit it out for anything, have trucks coming and going and everyone would just think it was part of the restoration,” Marcus commented. 

 

Clint nodded. It seemed a good a place to start as any. 

 

“Ok, pack up and be ready to leave in twenty.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

They arrived at the military hospital and pulled up a little way down the road, making their way back through the trees that lined the road until they could see the hospital. It was derelict and didn't seem to have much of a roof but it was still a beautiful building and must have been quite a sight in it's day. Clint motioned for everyone to spread out. Splitting up into pre-arranged pairs and a trio of Max, Malone and Barney, they began to scout the area. Clint and Marcus kept to the trees and got as close to the building as possible. After checking the coast was clear, they darted out and ran for the hospital, pressing up against the wall, they made their way to the nearest window which was missing it's glass. Clint held his side arm ready at his side and risked a quick glance thorough the empty pane. It was all clear. He gripped the side of the window and easily flipped himself though and into the building. He made his way into what must once have been a waiting room, a quiet clatter behind him telling him Marcus has followed, though perhaps not as smoothly as Clint. 

 

Quickly and quietly they made their way to the hallway. Clint held up a hand to stop Marcus and cocked his head to one side. A faint noise brought his attention to a set of steps that led down to basement level. He led the way down the stairs and into a long hallway. The noise he had heard was coming from the double doors at the end, a thin strip of light under the doorway showing the room was in use. Edging one of the door's open slightly, Clint peaked in. 

 

There were people everywhere. What looked like a giant chemistry set was set up in the middle of the room with people working all around it. Clint caught sight of the Whiz Kid in the centre of it all, deep in conversation with one of the workers. He took in as much of the room as he could but he couldn't see Douglas. He cursed under his breath. They couldn't make a move until they knew Douglas was there or they would lose the element of surprise. He motioned for Marcus to back up and headed back to the upper level. Once there, Clint spoke quietly into his comm. 

 

“We've got the Whiz Kid. Anyone have eyes on Douglas?”

 

“Nothing, sir,” Max replied. 

“No visual on Douglas but we've found a whole stack of guns,” Coop said. 

 

“Leave them. Douglas is priority. He's not here so fall back.”

 

They met back at the SUV's. 

 

“This is definitely where he's running his outfit from,” Clint said. “We found his drug lab in the basement, but we can't risk making a move until we know Douglas is here. He can't know we've followed him here or he'll run for it. So, this is officially a stake out. Spread out, comms on at all times. First sign of him we go in, quick and quiet. If we run across guards take them out either hand to hand or with silencers before they can raise the alarm. I don't want him to know we're there until I have a weapon pressed to his throat. I'm not letting him get away from us again.”

 

“Amen to that,” Max muttered. 

 

“Suit up, spread out and let's get the son of a bitch.”

 

The team we're checking weapons, grabbing ammo and fitting silencers, when Marcus came and stood beside him and spoke quietly so that only Clint could hear. 

 

“Suit up? You know, you're not with your Avenger buddies now, Boss Man.”

 

“Bite me, Marcus.”

 

“There he is.”

 

“What?” Clint looked at Marcus questioningly. 

 

“There's the Clint Barton I know and love. You've been a bit...distant ever since we lost Douglas.”

 

Clint looked away. 

 

“I know it's annoying and there's obviously some history between you and your brother I don't know about. Just...don't forget your Agent Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton, the most snarky, cocky son of a bitch I've ever had the pleasure of working with. You think you have a lot to prove but you've done that. People understand about Loki, about what he made you do and when this is done, they're gonna realise you're still the same guy...as long as you go back to skulking in the air vents, making fun of everyone and being a pain in the ass. As long as you go back to SHIELD and show them you're still you.”

 

Marcus walked away without another word. Even though Marcus was wrong about the cause of his sullenness, he was right. The only way to prove he was still the Agent they all knew before, was to be the _man_ he was before. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

It took three hours for Douglas to arrive. For Clint, it was nothing. He was used to spending hours crouched in the same position, eye pressed to his scope, waiting for the right moment to take his shot. He could sense that Fukuda was becoming a little restless, not yet having acquired the level of patience of the more senior agents he was working alongside but thankfully it was him that spotted Douglas and it seemed to snap him back to himself. 

 

“Eyes on target. He's just pulling up round back,” Fukuda reported. 

 

“Remember, quick and quiet. On me,” Clint said before heading out bow clutched in his hand, arrow knocked and held low but ready. He ran across the lawn and stopped outside the door he and Marcus had entered through before. He waiting until Malone, Barney and Max joined him, guns held ready, and then lead the way into the hospital. 

 

They didn't see anyone until they met up with the others at the top of the stairs that led down to the basement. 

 

“You see anyone?” Clint whispered. Marcus shook his head and Clint frowned. Barney had told them that Douglas had a personal security team as well as goons that guarded his merchandise. So, if this was where he was running his criminal empire from, even if it was just the drugs side of it, where the hell where they? The longer they went without seeing anyone, the more Clint started to feel like this was a trap. 

 

“Douglas is definitely down there,” Marcus said after Clint had been staring down the stairs for a few seconds without making a move. “We saw him heading down with a couple of bodyguards.”

 

Clint nodded but still didn't move. 

 

“Does this feel like a trap to you?” he asked. Marcus just looked at him in a way that told Clint he was thinking exactly the same thing as him. He turned so that he was facing everyone. “Something's wrong.”

 

“Do we fall back?” Max asked. Clint shook his head. They were SHIELD agents, FBI agents, they were the best and they could take anything Douglas threw at them. Maybe. 

 

“We can't let Douglas get away. This ends now,” he said. “Stay on your toes. Douglas is a clever fuck and I don't want anyone getting caught out.” They nodded and he could see everyone straightening a little as they readied themselves for the fight. 

 

They descended the steps silently and Coop crouched by the door, hand resting on the doorknob. She pressed her eye to the keyhole and then looked up at the others and nodded slowly, mouthing the countdown to them. On three, she throw open the door and Clint charged past her. The workers looked up startled and most of them scurried away towards a door in the opposite wall at the sight of the weapons in their hands. There were at least twenty of Douglas' thugs in the room but seven of them had dropped before they even had a chance to reach for their guns; five of them down with head shots, one with a bullet to the chest and the seventh staggered backwards, an arrow protruding from his chest that wobbled slightly as he fell. Another arrow flew through the air and found it's mark before the thugs managed to get their act together and return fire. 

 

Clint fired three arrows in quick succession, making his way steadily to the limited cover offered by one of the tables. Barney thudded down beside him, switching the mag in his gun. He shot Clint a grin and Clint just caught himself from grinning back. He stood quickly again and fired a few more arrows, each one hitting it's target. He glanced at his team and was glad to see everyone was still up and firing whilst their enemies where dwindling quickly. He looked to the centre of the room where Douglas was surrounded by his men, being shielded from the barrage of bullets and arrows. He grabbed an exploding arrow and shot it off to the side furthest from him.

 

As soon as the men looked towards the explosions, Clint darted out. He thrust an arrow into the throat of the first man he reached before firing it almost point blank into the next. He realised Barney was right beside him and together, with the others picking off the others around them, they fought their way to the man at the centre. 

 

Douglas looked up at them, unimpressed. His men lay dead, dying or wounded all around him but Douglas simply smirked and began a slow, steady clap that made Clint uneasy. 

 

“An impressive show to be fair,” Douglas said, his thick London accent seeming to bristle with menace. “You think you've won. It's sweet really. But there's one thing you didn't count on.”

 

“Oh yeah, what's that?” Clint shot back. 

 

“I knew you were coming,” he said with a grin. 

 

“Then why are you here?” Clint demanded. “Why are all your men dead, if they knew we were coming?”

 

“Who said they knew? Besides, I couldn't miss the look on your face when you realised someone had been playing you all along.”

 

Clint looked at Barney in anger. He should have known. He should have fucking known. It wasn't like it was the first time his brother had betrayed him. It was dodgy from the start and he'd known it. Barney had still been working for Douglas this whole time. He wanted to lash out, punch his brother until he broke something but he refrained. He wouldn't give Douglas or Barney the satisfaction of knowing he was angry.

 

“Not like it's the first time,” he said, ignoring the hurt and confused look on Barney's face. _Give it up, Barney_ he thought _shows over_. 

 

“Close, but no cigar,” Malone said, raising her gun and pointing it straight at Barney's head. 

 

“Beth...what are you doing?”

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I've had a better offer,” said, moving to stand beside Douglas who wrapped a muscled arm around her waist and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her gun never wavered and Clint could sense that the rest of his team were as shocked as he was. 

 

“I don't understand how you could do this,” Barney spat. 

 

“I wouldn't expect a highschool drop out, circus freak like you to understand,” Malone said cruelly and Clint felt something burn inside him at her words. “Henry can offer me something that you and the FBI could never dream off. It was fun while it lasted Barney, but let's be honest, we were fuck buddies and nothing more.”

 

“Like I give a shit about some whore,” Barney said. 

 

“You should mind your tongue,” Douglas said softly. 

 

“You think this changes anything?” Clint said, finally finding his voice. “We take you both in. No skin of my nose.”

 

“About that,” Douglas said. Quick as a flash he pulled out a gun from the back of his trousers and fired three quick shots before grabbing Malone and running. Clint felt one of the bullets tear through his thigh and stumbled backwards. 

 

“Go after them!” he screamed, sliding down onto the floor, kicking himself for being drawn into Douglas' distraction, and was grateful that Marcus didn't hesitate to lead the others out the back way on the tail of their targets. He pressed a hand down on the wound in his thigh and started when another pair of hands joined his. Barney pulled off his shirt and bunched it together, moving Clint's hands away and pressing the wad of cloth firmly against his leg. Clint hissed a little but worked his belt off and wrapped it around his leg and pulled it tight to hold the cloth in place. 

 

“Can you stand?” Barney asked. 

 

“Probably,” Clint replied and wasn't stupid enough to ignore the arm that Barney offered him. Together, they got him to his feet and he tested his weight on his left leg. It hurt like a motherfucker, but he'd had worse.

 

“Clint!” Marcus' voice screamed in his ear. “Clint get the fuck out of there!”

 

“Marcus?”

 

“There's a fucking bomb. Get out of there now!”

 

Clint looked over at Barney panic stricken. 

 

“Go,” he said, pushing his brother away. “Go, I'm right behind you.”

 

“Don't be fucking stupid,” Barney said, winding his arm around Clint's waist and taking most of his weight. “I'm not leaving you behind, not again. We'll get out of this together.”

 

“Hurry the fuck up!” Marcus yelled over the comm. 

 

Clint and Barney ran as fast as they could, Clint slowing them down even as he pushed himself as hard as he could through the pain. They made it half way up the stairs before an explosion ripped through the hospital, sending them flying though the air. The already fragile building seemed to crumble around them, showering them with debris. Clint slammed into a wall and everything went black. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Clint startled awake to a voice screaming in his ear. 

 

“Clint! Talk to me buddy! Clint!” Marcus was panting, the steady thump of footsteps telling Clint he was running as he spoke. 

 

“I hear ya,” he groaned and heard Marcus sigh in relief. 

 

“Me and Coop are coming, buddy, Ok? Are you hurt?”

 

“Tell me you got Douglas and Malone,” Clint gasped, pulling himself up into a sitting position, a sharp pain telling him he'd probably broken a rib or two. 

 

“Yeah, Fukuda and Max are guarding them.”

 

“Stay with them,” Clint said. 

 

“But...”

 

“Marcus, stay with them. We'll be fine.” As if he suddenly remembered he hadn't been alone, Clint started looking around the destroyed stairwell looking for signs of his brother. “Barney!?” he shouted. 

 

“Clint, listen to me, are you hurt?” Marcus said. 

 

“I've had worse.”

 

“That's not what I asked. Listen, Coop is going to stay here but I'm coming to help you and stop being an idiot about it.”

 

“I could make it an order.”

 

“Please, don't.” Something in Marcus' voice pulled Clint up short. 

 

“What's going on?”

 

“Douglas and the Whiz Kid were still experimenting with the drug. There were test subjects in the hospital, all crazy like the guys Barney said he saw on that video. The explosion will have set them loose.”

 

“How many?” Clint asked, pulling himself up on his feet and cursing softly as pain tore through his leg. 

 

“Thirteen.”

 

“Huh, unlucky for...” Clint stopped mid sentence and cocked his head to one side. His skin prickled as if someone was watching him and he was sure he'd hear a noise. Not Barney, he wouldn't be sticking to the shadows...someone else. “Not alone,” he said shortly. “Feels like they're stalking me...like...FUCK!” Clint shouted as someone launched themselves onto his back letting out a blood curdling scream that made his ears throb, arms tightening around his neck. Adrenaline kicked in and the pain was forgotten as he threw himself into the fight. He flung himself backwards, crushing the person on his back against the brick, hard enough that they loosened their grip on his neck. He reached up a hand and grabbed them by the scruff of the neck, throwing them over his head and onto the floor in one swift movement. It was a woman, probably about twenty-five, barely five foot three and carrying about 10lbs less than was comfortable on her frame. She looked like she would barely have the strength to break a twig and yet Clint's neck still smarted from where her arms had felt like they were about to crush his windpipe. Clint dropped into a defensive stance, reaching for his bow but it was gone, he'd lost it in the rubble in the explosion. But he still had the arrows and he plucked one from his quiver and thrust it towards her just as she came barrelling at him, shouting profanities, her chin flecked with spit. Her own momentum and the thrust of Clint's arm pushed the arrow deep into her stomach. She looked surprised for a moment and then reached out and violently scratched the side of Clint's face. He pushed the arrow further in and up. She gurgled for a second and then fell to the floor, still. 

 

Clint was panting hard. The attack had taken him completely by surprise. Not because it was sudden but because it was so violent from such a small girl and because of the madness that had swirled in her dull green eyes. He looked around waiting for the next attack. 

 

“One down...”

 

“Twelve to go,” Marcus finished, appearing at the top of the stairwell and making his way down the rubble. 

 

“Barney?” Clint called again and made his way back down to the basement level, listening intently for sounds from his trapped brother, Marcus right behind him, almost hovering as if he was worried Clint might collapse at any minute. It wasn't such an outlandish idea so Clint said nothing. After about a minute he heard the faint sounds of his name. He stopped and strained his ears until he pinpointed the section of rubble the voice was coming from. “Over here!” he shouted to Marcus who joined him and together they began to shift the rubble off of Barney, checking every few seconds in case another one of the test subjects decided to attack from the darkness. 

 

Finally, they managed to unearth Barney's blood covered face. He'd taken a pretty bad blow to the head but otherwise seemed fine. They'd been lucky. If they had been a little slower, Marcus might be on a solo mission to collect the fragments of their scattered bodies. They worked on freeing Barney's upper body but stopped as a blood chilling giggle sounded from the top of the stairwell. Clint turned towards the sound and saw a man, crouched looking down at them with glee written all over his face. He was drenched in blood, so much so that you couldn't tell what colour his t-shirt had been before. Another man stood behind him, younger but broader and with a shock of red hair that caught the sunlight streaming through from somewhere in a way that looked in the gloom as if his head was aflame. Everything about them screamed madness. It was in their eyes, in the way the stood, the way they moved. The crouched man had a twitch in his shoulders that he couldn't control and a manic laughter that bubbled constantly on his lips, breaking free every few seconds to send the hair on the back of Clint's neck standing on end. 

 

“You're new,” the younger man said. “We killed all the old ones. They were boring. Perhaps you'll prove to be more fun.”

 

Before Clint or Marcus could do anything the red head launched himself over his crouched companion, a knife gleaming in his hand and flew towards them with an angry scream. Marcus intercepted the man mid-flight and threw his entire body against him so that he crashed into the wall and then crumpled in a heap on the floor. The crouched man wasn't laughing any more. He roared and threw himself onto Marcus who had been in the process of reaching for his gun. Barney grabbed Clint's arm and together they finished getting him free and to his feet. Once they were up they launched themselves into the fray. Barney fell on the red-head, pummelling him with his fists while the madman screeched, Marcus had managed to dislodge the other man and was forcing him back with a sharp kick as he reached for his gun again. Clint grabbed an arrow and charged towards Barney. As he approached, Barney rolled away clutching his arm and Clint realised the red head had managed to catch him across his forearm with his knife. 

 

At the same time he realised that that same knife was thrusting towards his exposed chest. He tried to dodge but his bad leg gave and he stumbled. He regained his footing just as the knife plunged into his shoulder. He yelled but managed to get his arrow in position so that the shaft was tucked between his fingers, the head sticking out about an inch over his palm. He shot his hand forward and grabbed the red heads neck, the arrow pushing into the flesh of his throat. He pushed harder and twisted his hand a little, blood flowing from the other man to coat his hand. The man smiled and it was so twisted, Clint thought he might be sick. Or it might have something to do with his own blood loss. He let go of the arrow and the man crumpled to the ground. The crack of a bullet sounded behind him, followed by the slump of a body. He spun round to see Marcus standing over the other man, gun still aimed at his head as if convinced he could still get up. 

 

“Let's get the fuck out of here,” Clint said and made towards what he could still make out of the stairs.

 

Bad move. His vision swam, The knife shifted in his shoulder causing him to cry out. His leg gave out and he was falling, the ground rushing to meet him. He was out before it reached him. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Clint woke with a start. He couldn't get his eyes open against the harsh light that blared down on him. Something was on his face. He reached up and tried to push it away but his arm felt heavy and he couldn't get a grip on the thing that covered his mouth and nose. 

 

A calloused hand closed softly around his and pulled it gently away. He groaned and tried to free his hand but stopped when another hand stroked his cheek and a voice he knew all too well spoke softly near his ear. 

 

“It's Ok, baby. Douglas and Malone are in custody, your team are fine, Barney's fine...just sleep, baby. You're Ok...you're Ok...”

 

Clint drifted off with Phil's voice lulling him gently to sleep. 

 

The next time he woke up he was more lucid. He managed to open his eyes and look down at his side where his hand was clasped loosely in one of Phil's. His eyes travelled up Phil's arm to where Phil was curled up in his seat, snoring softly in his sleep. Clint allowed himself a small smile and gripped Phil's hand tighter. 

 

“Welcome back,” a voice said on his other side and he snapped round, managing to only let out a quiet yelp at the jolt of pain that rippled through him. Nick Fury was sat in a plastic chair, coat draped over the back and sleeves rolled up. He had a Stark pad lying in his lap but he wasn't looking at it, resting his head in one hand and staring at Clint instead. “Well, that was one hell of a baptism of fire as team leader.”

 

“Sorry, sir,” Clint said, looking away, utterly aware that he had fucked up. 

 

“What the hell for?” Fury demanded. “I think you did an amazing job.” Clint shook his head but Fury continued before he had a chance to speak, picking up his pad almost as if he had planned for this moment. “Your team happen to agree with me: 'Agent Barton did a fantastic job as team leader.'; 'Even when the shit hit the fan, Agent Barton refused to let us loose focus. He kept morale high whilst moving the mission forward.'; 'Even though Agent Barton was dealing with an unexpected complication that caused him a great deal of personal difficulty, he did not once lose focus on the mission nor did he allow his personal feelings to interfere the with running of the team.'” 

 

“Nick...”

 

“What? You getting all modest on me?”

 

“It's not that...”

 

“Look I know what happened with Loki did a number on you, but you've never been one to wallow in self pity. Don't start on me now.” 

 

Clint couldn't but let out a snort of laughter. It was true. He'd been through more in his life than most people could manage in thirty life times but he'd taken everything in his stride. Even though the abuse from the Swordsman had almost destroyed him at the time, he'd pulled himself up and created a life for himself that he was pretty damn proud of. He'd gone from being an uneducated, circus brat with no prospects other than a life of crime, to being one of the top agents in the world. He was a freaking Avenger. He had friends and a partner he loved. 

 

He'd done Ok. There were people out there who had been through things like him and maybe they'd never be able to cope with it. Because Clint wasn't over it, it wasn't something you got over. But he was coping just fine. He didn't wake up screaming every night, he didn't have half as many nightmares as he probably should have done considering all the crap he'd seen and he thought he functioned pretty well. 

 

Maybe he didn't have anything to prove any more. Maybe he'd already proved it. He hadn't let Loki break him, just like he hadn't let the Swordsman break him. He had coped and moved on. He'd shown everyone he was still the same Agent Barton they had always known, just with a few cracks they may not have noticed before. Clint didn't like to show weakness but he didn't mind showing his friends he was human. 

 

“You know...I pretty much saved that mission,” Clint said, cockily. 

 

“Oh yeah, how'd you work that one out?” Fury asked, a twinkle in his eye. 

 

“If it hadn't been for my amazing leadership and quick thinking strategies, we might have lost Douglas altogether. And if you think about it, if I hadn't hesitated when we first saw Barney, we might never have known that Malone was involved with him. She probably would have found a way to get him out before we even had time to process him. So in a way, me fucking up the mission at the start was the best thing that could have happened.”

 

“There's that cocky asshole I know and love,” Fury stood and shrugged his coat on. He walked past the bed and gripped Clint's knee briefly on his way past. “Good to have you back.”

 

“So what happens now?” Clint called when Fury was almost out of the door. 

 

“Now? Now you heal up. Doc says three weeks minimum before you'll be up to using a bow again, two weeks until PT can start. Take the time off, get yourself sorted. Then, you're on active SHIELD duty with your team. I want you as a strike force, ready to go wherever I need you, whenever I need you. Marcus is your second, use him when the Avengers need you.”

 

“Thank you,” Clint said quietly. 

 

“You earned it,” Fury said simply, turning and leaving the room without another word. 

 

Clint looked down at Phil to find him staring back at him. 

 

“Looks like we'll both be jetting off around the world all the time...apart,” Clint said. 

 

“We'll cope. We always do.”

 

Clint nodded and stroked his thumb along the back of Phil's hand. 

 

“You scared the shit out of me,” Phil said, so softly Clint almost didn't hear him. 

 

“Didn't mean to. I'm Ok, I'm more than Ok. This is gonna be good for me. It will suck being apart but we'll find time for each other, right?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I can do this.”

 

“You're going to be amazing.”

 

Clint smiled. Maybe he would be. 

 

“I love you,” he said, pulling on Phil's hand. Phil smiled and allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed. Phil cupped Clint's cheek with one hand leaning up to capture his lips in a smouldering kiss. Clint kissed him back, threading one hand into his hair. “Don't start something we can't finish,” he mumbled against the other man's lips. Phil chuckled softly, one hand trailing down Clint's arm and round to his ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Behind him the door flew open and Clint groaned. 

 

“Woah! Sorry...I...errr....We should have knocked...We can come back...”

 

“It's fine,” Phil said, unruffled as ever and he slid off the bed. “I'll be back soon,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to Clint's forehead. He turned and walked past the group in the door without a glance. His entire team looked at Clint sheepishly from beside the door. 

 

“You all totally just cockblocked me,” Clint sighed. 

 

“Sorry, Boss Man,” Max said, striding into the room properly and plonking herself down in Phil's vacated seat. Marcus sat on his other side, Coop perched on the end of the bed whilst Fukuda stood awkwardly at the end of the bed. 

 

“What's up, kid?” Clint asked. 

 

“I'm not sure I should be here, sir...”

 

“Shut up. You're part of this team now, whether you like it or not. Get used to it.”

 

Fukuda grinned and nodded. 

 

“So, Fury told us the good news. Looks like you're stuck with us for a while,” Marcus grinned. “Unless you have to go off and save the world in more flashy style than usual with your Avenger friends.”

 

“Are we flashy?” a voice asked near the door. Clint looked up just as all the Avengers filed into the room. Tony had one hand pressed against his face as though he was deep in thought. “I mean, I know Cap is a bit spangley, but the rest of us?”

 

“Please, Tony...you fight in a shiny metal suit. You couldn't be more flashy if you tried,” Clint snarked. 

 

Tony grinned and then seemed to sober a little. Natasha was giving Clint a death glare that would make a lesser man squirm. Clint simply started back at her and raised an eyebrow in challenge. She crossed the room, pushed him over a little and sat in the bed beside him. 

 

“I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to push people who are recovering from not just broken ribs but a bullet to the leg. And I got stabbed.”

 

“I heard,” she said, disinterestedly, glancing around at the others. “So this is your team?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You guys have a name?” Tony asked.

 

“What...like a team name?” Fukuda asked. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“No,” Clint answered.

 

“You need one. How about the Hawkeye Babes? Or the Baby Hawks? Or...”

 

“We don't need a team name, Tony,” Clint said with a sigh. 

 

It was kind of weird having both his teams in one room. Introductions were made, Coop got a little bit squeaky when Steve kissed her hand, everyone jostled for places to sit, the Avengers asked questions about their mission which they answered as best they could, without telling them things they weren't allowed to. After a while, Clint began to drift off. Natasha smoothed his hair off of his face and he smiled slightly. 

 

“Huh, that's a hard name to make a nickname out of,” he heard Tony say. 

 

“Why would I need a nickname?”

 

“Everyone needs a nickname. Marcus is going to be MarkyBoy from now on.”

 

“No, I'm not,” Marcus interjected.

 

“What's you're first name?”

 

“Katsuhiko.”

 

“...you got a middle name?”

 

There was a beat of silence and Clint forced an eye open to look at Fukuda. 

 

“It's embarrassing isn't it?” Tony said gleefully. 

 

“Tony,” Clint warned. 

 

“My mom was a big Harrison Ford fan...”

 

“Oh my God...it's Indiana isn't it.”

 

“...yes...”

 

“Oh yes! Starting now, we're calling you Indy,” Marcus laughed. 

 

“Oh God,” Fukuda groaned. 

 

Clint chuckled and let his eyes slip closed. Surrounded by both of his teams, his friends, he drifted into unconsciousness.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

A week after he woke up, he was finally allowed home. Phil pushed him out to the car in a wheelchair and settled him in the front passenger seat. His crutches went in the trunk with his bag and Phil climbed into the drivers seat, glancing over at Clint quickly. Clint continued to stare out of the window. 

 

“You Ok?” Phil asked. 

 

“Yeah, I'll be good once we get home.”

 

Clint was fine, if a little conflicted about his own emotions. He'd been in medical the whole week and been inundated with visitors. He could barely get rid of the Avengers or his team, Phil was there as often as he could be, people he hadn't spoken to in months dropped in to wish him well and told him it was good to have him back. Clint hadn't realised he had been away but he realised his determination to prove he was Ok after Loki had made him distant with everyone. They hadn't been staring at him because they thought he might shoot them in the back, but because they were worried he had changed for good. It was heartening to realise that people still trusted him, still saw him as one of them. Marcus and Phil had been right, he'd proved himself, he just hadn't realised it at the time. 

 

But Barney hadn't been to visit once. 

 

Phil said he'd dropped by when Clint was out and he didn't elaborate but from Phil's taut posture, Clint gathered there had been...words. Harsh words, perhaps a full blown screaming match. Phil may even have thrown a few punches. He wouldn't say either way, but there had been a graze on his knuckles that he didn't seem to have an explanation for and Barney hadn't been back. 

 

Clint didn't know why he cared. He'd told Barney that once the whole thing with Douglas was done, he wanted him gone and yet now...

 

Well, that was just it. He didn't know. He couldn’t forgive Barney. He certainly couldn't forget. But, the man that had refused to leave him at the old hospital was not the boy that had left him behind at the circus. Clint had changed a lot since then, maybe Barney had too. 

 

Maybe they could try and salvage something of the relationship they had had when they were small, before the Swordsman got involved and started forcing the wedge between them. But Barney was in the wind, Clint had told him to go and told him not to come near him again. He didn't think he had it in him to go looking for Barney. Not yet, maybe not ever. 

 

Once they were home, Phil helped him up to their apartment and settled him on the couch. 

 

“What's wrong?” Phil asked. 

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Clint.”

 

Clint sighed. He couldn't hide anything from Phil. 

 

“I don't know, babe. I don't know what's going on in my head. Part of me wants to never see Barney again and another part of me...he's my brother, the only family besides you I have, and I can't help but wonder if there's a way we can start to fix things.”

 

Phil nodded and then leant forward and kissed him gently. 

 

“I thought that was what it was. I'm glad because otherwise this could have got pretty awkward.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The doorbell rang and Clint stared hard at Phil. 

 

“Phil...”

 

Phil stood and strode to the door. Clint heard some murmuring voices and then Barney was edging his way into the apartment, looking a little awkward and extremely nervous. Phil motioned for him to go through to the sitting room and then went to the kitchen, leaving the two brothers alone. Clint looked up at Barney, who didn't seem to know what to do with himself. 

 

“The sofa won't bite,” Clint said and swallowed. 

 

Barney sat on the edge of the sofa that Clint wasn't spread out on and clasped his hands together. 

 

“I can go,” he said softly. 

 

“Games about to start,” Clint said in reply, flicking on the TV. 

 

“Clint, we should talk. I'm sor...”

 

“Yeah, I know Barn, I know you're sorry. I know you've changed. Maybe we can have a deep discussion about our feelings later. Right now, I'm tired of talking. I just got out of hospital, my shoulder and my leg ache like a bitch, I'm emotionally exhausted from trying to decide whether I should hug you or punch you in the face and, most importantly, did I mention the game is about to start.”

 

As if on cue, Phil came through from the kitchen, jacket and tie abandoned, shirt sleeves rolled up and three bottles of beer in his hands. He stopped in between the two sofas and held one out to Barney. Ridiculously, Clint found himself holding his breath as Barney looked from Phil to the beer and then to Clint, before slowly reaching out and taking it. Clint relaxed back into the sofa, allowing Phil to gently lift his legs and slide underneath them, handing him a beer in one smooth movement.

 

Clint sipped his beer and tried to forget about his warring emotions. He tried to forget about the past and ignore the stresses that were sure to come in the future. He turned his brain off from worrying about how he should be feeling, how he and Barney would get through this, how Clint would juggle a relationship with a man he would hardly ever get to see, running a team of SHILED agents and being an Avenger.

 

Instead, he focussed on the comfortable feeling of watching the game and drinking a beer with Phil and Barney by his side.


End file.
